


"With Curves Like That, No One Could Call You Lolita"

by AloryShannon



Category: Tales of the Abyss
Genre: "Tales Of" Kink Meme Fill, December/May Relationship, Desk Sex, F/M, Oneshot, PWP, Shameless Smut, Tales of Kink Meme, sex in a public place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-24
Updated: 2011-12-24
Packaged: 2017-10-28 00:54:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/301953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AloryShannon/pseuds/AloryShannon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Tales Of Kink Meme prompt: "On his office desk sex kink? And with the possibility of being found out while in the act?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	"With Curves Like That, No One Could Call You Lolita"

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, since LJ is being a douchewaffle, I figured might as well finally take credit for some of my Kink Meme fills and move 'em on over here. That way they can be read without giving people _migraines._

“…Ah, and here we are.”  Pulling the book from one of the many shelves in his office, the Necromancer turns and hands the sizeable tome to the young woman waiting behind him.  “The History of the Order of Lorelei in all its tedious and politically convoluted glory.”

“Thank you, Colonel” Tear says, accepting the book with a small, grateful smile.  “Anise will be glad to have this.  With all the libraries and reading rooms in the Cathedral, she was having trouble finding a copy, and she’ll need to know everything if she’s going to succeed in her bid to become the new Fon Master.”

“Then I suppose it’s fortunate that His Imperial Majesty wasn’t interested in that particular work, otherwise locating it might have been something of an ordeal,” Jade says lightly, eyeing the untidy spread of books, papers, quills, and the odd mechanical object piling up in the corner nearest his office door.  Peony’s mess has gotten bad enough that it threatens to prevent the door from opening should the morass spontaneously decide to migrate even _slightly_ in that direction.  Jade notes that it’s expanded past the potted plant, almost to the legs of the couch--the point that he had designated years ago as the indicator for when it was time to pick everything up and force the Emperor to start building his little bastion of clutter over again from scratch the next time he visited.  “Honestly, I’m not certain how helpful that book will truly be,” the Colonel says, a careless shrug in his tone as he crosses the room and kneels to begin cleaning up, starting with a pile of the most recent scientific journals, a few books on more advanced artes, and a series of rather ridiculous, florid-looking romance novels that Peony most certainly did _not_ find on Jade’s bookshelves; Jade sets them to the side without so much as batting an eye, well-used to Peony’s eclectic tastes and odd sense of humour by now.  “She’s likely to have some trouble getting through it.  Somehow, I rather doubt thirteen—pardon me, _fourteen_ -year-olds were the author’s target audience.”

“I’m sure she’ll manage.”  Briefly kneeling beside him, Tear gathers up an armload of papers, methodically organizing them as she stands and crosses the room, discarding the ones too smeared or crumpled or obviously unimportant and placing the rest on one side of Jade’s desk, then picking up History of the Order of Lorelei again in preparation of leaving.  “Even if she doesn’t always act like it, she is something of a prodigy, after all…”  The melodist trails off as a sheaf of papers on Jade’s desk catches her eye, and she blinks in surprise.  “I didn’t know that Guy let you borrow Luke’s diary, too.”

“Once I assured him that my interest was solely for the purpose of researching the current situation, he gave his consent, though he was initially quite reluctant to do so.  Unfortunately, it didn’t really shed any new light on present circumstances,” Jade admits before Tear gets the chance to work up the courage to ask if he’d found anything.  “Regrettable, of course, but not unexpected.”  A sly smile turns the corners of the Colonel’s mouth as he rights a dried-up inkwell and continues straightening and stacking books, his tone just a bit too casual.  “Though not at all uninteresting, particularly what he had to say concerning certain members of our party, wouldn’t you agree?  Hmm, how did it go— _‘I was about to tell her my true feelings’_ …?”

Tear unconsciously clutches the book in her hands a little bit tighter, her voice dropping to a low mutter.  “That idiot…I can’t believe he didn’t say anything.”  _I can’t believe **I** didn’t say anything until it was too late, _ is what she really means, and they both know it, though they pretend they don’t.

“I’m afraid I can’t say I’m surprised,” the Colonel says offhandedly, not looking up from his task of sorting the books into alphabetical and numerical order.  “He’d grown out of his selfishness by then, though even if he hadn’t, I doubt he would have known what to say.  Not that you were really any better about expressing yourself, of course.”

It’s a mild reprimand for her statement about Luke, but Tear can’t help drawing in a sharp breath and taking a single startled half-step backwards at the obvious implication of his comment; she recovers fairly quickly, however, and manages to speak in her best calm, cold-hearted soldier tone.  “That would mean a lot more if it was coming from someone who didn’t hide his own feelings and speak in riddles most of the time.”

Jade glances up and around at that, visibly amused by the verbal riposte.  “Perhaps.  But simply choosing not to show one’s thoughts and feelings is vastly different from lacking the capability to do so.”  He rises, straightens, clasping his hands behind his back and slowly pacing towards her, his gaze, still amused, intent on her face.  “Well, shall I show you how expressive I can be, then?”

His steps have been measured and unhurried but deliberate, and before she knows it, he’s crossed the few metres separating them.  The book in her hands drops to the floor with a dull thud as she backs away, stopping only when his desk prevents her from moving any further.

“Luke _did_ seem fairly oblivious, didn’t he,” Jade continues conversationally, coming to a stop directly in front of her.  “Even if he does return, it’s unlikely that he’ll figure out any matters of a more delicate nature in a timely fashion,” he adds, leaning forward just enough to rest one hand on the desk to either side of the girl, trapping her, forcing her to perch on the edge of it to avoid bumping noses with him.

“Colonel, wh-what--?!”  She sputters a little at the unexpected proximity and the awkwardness of the situation, her cheeks flushing bright pink as her hands come up to push him back, but he straightens somewhat before she makes contact with his chest.

“Indeed, perhaps you would do better to find someone more _experienced,_ ” he murmurs, lightly brushing the back of one gloved index finger against her cheek.  The way her eyes widen and her face reddens even more is truly delightful, and it’s all Jade can do to hold back a chuckle as he slips that finger beneath her chin, tipping her face up, leaning in again until there is only an inch or so separating them and he can almost taste her quiet gasp of surprise…then dropping his hand and moving away with a casual shrug.

“…Or perhaps not.  After all, I suppose there _is_ something to be said for innocence and simple—” He stops when he feels a tug on his coat, a white-gloved hand holding him there.

He turns to look back at her, openly and honestly surprised, and finds her looking only slightly less surprised; but she doesn’t release her grip on his coat until he steps toward her again, close enough this time that the front of his uniform briefly brushes against hers.

It isn’t that he’s at all lacking in control--he’s old enough that wild hormones are a thing of the past, and even if they weren’t, his self-discipline is solid and substantial--nor has he been at all deprived in regards to such matters.  He’d had female company whenever he wanted it, which honestly wasn’t too terribly often, but it wasn’t never either.  No, this is something entirely different: it’s a clinical sort of curiosity, plain and simple.  He’s interested in spite of himself, intent on seeking answers to certain questions, such as why she reached for him like that, why she’s looking at him the way she is, and how far she’s going to let this go, as well as how far she _wants_ it go, which won’t necessarily come up with corresponding answers.

Intriguing.  Intriguing enough to test those boundaries, to tease her a bit and see if she changes her mind: an experiment of sorts.  One that has the potential to be enjoyable--she’s quite a lovely specimen of her gender after all, strong-willed, intelligent, possessing a more pleasing figure than most, and with a pretty face to match.  And as-of-yet untouched, if he’s not mistaken, which he rarely is, and he is entirely certain he isn’t this time, but that’s part of the reason for his curiosity and this experiment in the first place.

He takes her hand, a courtly gesture, bowing over it before slowly drawing off her glove.  She doesn’t protest, though she blinks and flushes slightly as he kisses the back of her bare hand like a perfect gentleman, a light, lingering kiss, before turning his attention to the other glove.  There’s nothing gentlemanly in the way he goes about removing this one though: he tugs it off with his teeth, a delicate nip at the tips of each of her fingers to loosen it first, and it’s not quite an accident that he takes the tops of her first two fingers into his mouth, dragging them out slowly before settling his teeth on the end of the glove and unhurriedly pulling that one off as well.  Once it’s gone, he presses a feathery-soft kiss to her palm, then the heel of her hand, then the underside of her wrist, lingering a while on that last, breathing in and letting his breath ghost over the thin skin there.  She smells faintly of selenias, a delicate but rich scent that is subtle and understated yet incontestably distinctive.  It suits her perfectly, and he wonders that he hasn’t noticed it before.

He feels her tremble, and she leans back against the desk, the hand he’s not holding grasping the front edge so tightly her knuckles flare white, her face burning just from that simple, surprisingly intimate-seeming act.  But while she still looks surprised, and perhaps a little nervous, she doesn’t really look _scared,_ and Jade is far from through with this particular test.

His fingers trace the tops of her leggings, and she’s surprised at how gentle his touch is--until he snaps her playfully with one of her garter straps, that is.  She flushes a deeper, angrier red this time, eyes flashing a stormy ocean-blue as she starts to protest this whole situation, but the words lodge in her throat, turning into a quiet gasp as his lips graze her cheek, brush across her jaw, and continue on downwards, settling over the pulse in her neck.

There his mouth opens against her soft skin, the kisses he presses to her neck no longer light or chaste or playfully teasing, but instead slow and warm and wet.  She gasps again, louder this time, her spine stiffening, her entire body temporarily going rigid, one hand clutching at the front of his uniform, the other still clamped tightly onto the edge of the desk and supporting most of her weight.  Then abruptly her whole body loosens, and she leans into him, arching her back and tilting her head, an involuntary, instinctive invitation.  He continues to lavish her neck with long, slow kisses, smiling a bit at the way her pulse races beneath his tongue and breathing deeply of the scent of selenias, still subtle but stronger there than at her wrist.

Brushing her long hair aside, he nips at her earlobe, lightly tugging it with his teeth before taking it into his mouth, running his tongue along the edge and underside before gently suckling it.  She shudders again, her head tipping further back as her eyes slide closed, her mouth falling open in a low, breathy sigh; he releases her earlobe with a wet, quiet pop that almost sounds like a kiss, his mouth tracing the curve of her neck downward.

It had been especially hot that day, so she’d left off the high-necked undershirt she usually wore beneath her dress, as he’s pleased to see when he begins to ease her zipper down, pushing the top of her dress back, baring her shoulders and collarbones and the beginning swell of her breasts; but there he stops, at least for now, her modesty still largely preserved.  Even so, she flushes again as his hands and his lips explore the newly exposed areas, and she draws a quick, unsteady breath as he brushes light kisses down the center of her chest, lingering at the top of the valley between her breasts, kissing first one side, then the other, his own breath tickling the soft, sensitive skin there.

Jade has long since discarded his gloves, albeit with less flair than hers had been removed; this sort of thing required a level of precision that made bare hands a necessity, and the warmth and intimacy of skin-on-skin contact is an added bonus.  He slides those hands down her arms, briefly resting them on her legs before running them up the outside of her thighs, slowly slipping them up beneath her dress to settle on her hips.  His mouth finds the juncture of her neck and shoulder as his thumbs caress her hipbones and the gentle hollows in front of them, fingertips ghosting along the lacy top of her panties; then one hand boldly slides down the outside of the slick silk and up between her legs.  She jerks and whimpers just a little too provocatively (albeit unintentionally) at his touch, and that coupled with the surprising amount of wetness his fingers find—

Before either really knows it, he’s half-lifted, half-shoved her backwards onto his desk, piles of neatly-stacked books and papers scattering in a careless flurry.  (In one of the constantly clinically removed corners of the Necromancer’s mind, the thought blossoms that it’s a good thing his office is on the ground level; otherwise the sound of so many heavy objects falling to the floor might have brought at least one well-intentioned guard running.)  Once again they briefly share a fleetingly surprised look at finding themselves in this position, but Tear doesn’t protest or attempt to fix her clothing or pull away, and Jade doesn’t step back and end it by smirking and playing it off; instead, an unspoken understanding of sorts passes between them as they both realise that they won’t be stopping this halfway—that somehow, neither of them wants to.

Moments into this realisation, she reaches up and takes off his glasses, her eyelids lowering shyly as she does so, as if it were some intensely private action and she wasn’t flat on her back on his desk with her dress halfway off.  He smiles, amused, and asks in a low murmur, “…Because they remind you that I’m too old?”

Tear’s flush deepens yet again, and she shakes her head as she drops the glasses over the side of the desk.  “…Because…you look cuter without them…”

“I see,” he chuckles, humouring her by accepting the unorthodox compliment with a sort of pride--it _is_ high praise coming from her, after all--and he can’t help but feel a renewed, more concentrated interest in this girl.  The only other woman to ever call him ‘cute’ had been Professor Nebilim, which somehow makes this unforeseen dalliance a little more meaningful and a lot less of a simple experiment, which isn’t entirely rational of him, he knows, but that’s simply how it is.

And that means it’s time for him to get serious about this.

Her eyes go wide with surprise and curiosity as he pushes her farther onto the desk; before she realises what he’s about, her panties are gone and he’s pushed her legs apart, bending over her.  She gives a low cry as he seals his mouth against her, her hips giving a startled buck at the strange, new, unexpectedly pleasurable feeling, his tongue swirling and stroking in a captivating rhythm, punctuated by a light brush of teeth here and a hard suck there.  His hands on her legs are firm, holding her in place, grounding her, and it’s impossible for her to speak through the panting moans shaking their way through her, impossible for her to think clearly for the longest time or to do anything but writhe beneath his every touch, but finally _—“Nnh_ …ah— _ah!_   C-Colonel, no!” she manages at last, the words strangled and more a continuance of her moans than anything.  “Please—please stop—”

Almost instantly he pauses, raising his head to look at her.  There’s something devilish in his faint smirk and the gleam in his eyes, something thick, dark, almost dusky about his voice.  “Oh?  You don’t like it?”

“It’s…embarrassing…”  Her words are faintly breathless and muffled by her hands, which she’s brought up to cover her face completely; through a crack in her fingers she catches a glimpse of his expression and the moisture shining on his lips and chin, prompting her to stare wide-eyed before shutting her eyes tightly against the spectacle.

“Ah, but you _do_ like it?”

Tear bites her lip, keeping her eyes tightly closed, not trusting her voice enough to hazard a response.  After a moment Jade chuckles, pressing his mouth against her again, drawing two fingers up and down her slick folds, then suddenly thrusting them into her; her back arches, her whole body dissolving into helpless trembling, a tiny, wordless cry answering his question.  With his other hand, he tugs her zipper down to her navel, her dress and remaining undergarments all but falling away before his experienced hands and piercing eyes, Tear turns her head, unable to bear the mere idea, much less the sight, of her body being so exposed to a man.

“You really are quite lovely,” he murmurs absently, his tone reflective, almost respectful, though the way his free hand is kneading her breast, and the way his teeth and fingertips roll and tug at her nipples in time with the movement of the hand between her legs undermines the idea of that respect more than a little.  But it all feels so forcefully, unexpectedly _good_ that for the moment, she doesn’t care.  She gives herself up to it, to the heat of the moment, to the intense pleasure unlike any she’s ever known, gasping and moaning and clutching at his uniform and the edge of the desk, simply letting her body react however it wants.

…And yet, somehow it’s still not quite enough; there’s more to be had, a way to feel both filled and fulfilled, and her body knows it and wants it, and badly.  And why not?  There’s no one to wait for anymore, they’ve gone this far already, and there are no reasons or rational thoughts strong enough to convince her to close her legs and pull away; quite the opposite, in fact, though she doesn’t know how to ask, or really even quite what she’s asking for.  She knows in _theory,_ of course, but nothing she’s read, none of the dry, straightforward textbooks made it sound anything like this, this almost-but-not-quite-there feeling that’s going to drive her mad soon and there has to be _something,_ some way to let him know—

“More,” she finally whispers, and the Necromancer is quick to comply.

She’s dripping wet by now, she’s ready and willing, but the pressure when he enters her is still enough to make her gasp and grit her teeth and grip the shoulders of his uniform hard enough to stretch it out of shape permanently.  He pauses as she stiffens, then reaches down to spread her legs a little wider, pulling out a bit every so often before pressing himself deeper, gradually working his way in.  Once there, he holds perfectly still, feeling her shudder beneath him, her breath warm, quick, and quiet against his neck.

She’s a good soldier--she isn’t the type to complain about pain--but Jade can tell by the fingertips digging into his upper arms and the sudden paleness of her skin that her discomfort is considerable.  But he expected this from the start, and he also knows there’s nothing for it, so he begins to move over her anyway, keeping careful control of each thrust and roll of his hips, and gradually some of the tension seems to fade from her.  Though tentative, she starts to match the movement of her hips to his, and the next time he pauses, buried deep within her, to catch his breath and rally his self-control and grind into her all at once, she catches him entirely unaware, her eyes determined as she grabs hold of the front of his uniform and drags him down for an actual kiss--their first, but unexpectedly deep and lengthy and enjoyable in spite of that.

…And it’s at that exact moment that the door swings open, making Tear jump and break off the kiss as suddenly as she’d started it, while Jade flicks a dark glare over his shoulder at the flamboyantly-dressed blonde man standing framed in the doorway.

The Emperor of Malkuth’s eyes go wide as they meet his childhood friend’s and take in the scene, his expression a step or two beyond startled; then he regains his poise and his laid-back charm and chuckles, a deep, rich sound.  “Well, I guess it’s true what they say about the quiet ones, hmm?” he says, grinning as Tear turns at least five separate shades of red and briefly struggles to get out from under Jade before burying her burning face in the open front of his uniform.

“Indeed,” Jade growls with uncharacteristically obvious, almost gruff, impatience.  “Now if you wouldn’t mind, Your Majesty, please do shut the door behind you.”

Still smiling, Peony obliges…but he steps _into_ the room before closing the door, and locking it as well.


End file.
